Wings
by birdywings
Summary: Under the silver halo of the moon, she glowed like a vision. Too bright for the darkness and too beautiful to ever have a tear cross her orbs of an endless cerulean blue. "I will return for you Elsa, You have my word." And little did she know that those would be the last words he ever spoke to her. That is, until he appeared at the glass in her window.
1. Prologue: Heart Of Ice

**Hello readers,**

**So this is my third Jelsa story and this little tale of mine is inspired by the talented musician Birdy and her song Wings.  
><strong>**So please go listen to her music you guys as she has the most incredibly enchanting voice:)**

**Hope you all enjoy, please leave a review because I love the feedback and do take peek at some of my other stories if you can as it would mean a lot:)**

**-birdywings**

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><p><em>Arendelle, 1856<em>

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><p>Prologue<p>

Heart Of Ice

From the pane of glass that divided her chambers from that of the outside world, she could see, hear, and feel it all.  
>She could see the crests of trees towering in the background, their crowns outlined and topped with the colors of night. Their limbs of willow and leaves flushed of green slowly fade from colors to shades as the landscape sketched before her window is drenched in the gloom of dusk. Shadows begin to ascend from the ground, dancing upon the ground and along the roots and shrubbery of the glen.<br>Ink the shade of black leaked from the distant horizon and slathered across the darkening sky. Twilight began to descend with the twinkle of the stars when they appeared one by one against the black stained dome. They flecked the sky from above, etching themselves against the azure as they befell over the silhouette of Arendelle from the heavens above. Each spark of silver gleaming in the distance in the midst of a pool of darkness like an angel watching fondly over the souls through the night. Guarding and protecting each and every one from shadows that will never be granted the chance to lay a claw on the light that shined brighter than the darkness could ever have darkened.

Beyond the walls forming the barricade between her chambers and the remainder of the palace and the glass between her and the outside world, she heard nothing but the fading sounds of daylight. Not one sound but the final bids of farewells and good nights' rest, last slams of shutting doors to the hamlets that were planted in an array in the village nestled below, and the silence after.  
>The silence that followed being the sound of every soul in the kingdom crawling under the sheets upon their beds and tucking themselves in between the blankets for the night. It was the sound of every soul's eyelids drawing closed over their eyes and allowing their minds to sink and fade into the illusions of slumber.<br>It was the sound of sleep and pure silence.  
>When the entire world fell under the spell of dusk.<p>

The moonlight came creeping in.  
>It illuminated her skin wrinkled and leathered with age. The ribbons and streams of silver seeped through the pane and spilled into the room. Its glare fell around her shoulders and sparkle in the encrustations of ice sewed into the shimmering blue silk of her skirts. Her tendrils of hair were tied into a braid and left to dangle over her left shoulder like a river of snow. And she sat there upon the stool of wood at the foot of the windowpane, made comfortable by the velvet cushion she rested on, like a vision in the night. Like a puddle of water glittering with the light of the moon in its every ripple.<p>

She watched the day go by, all the while the cerulean blue in her orbs glinted through the shadows like stars in the night-sky. So transparent and enchanting they became in the young hours of dusk that it was almost like floating off into the spell of a hazy dream when one caught that of the blue painting her irises. And when once one's gaze was captured, they would become incapable of averting their eyes. For hers were as blue and as piercing as the slick, translucent surface of ice when bathed in the golden rays of the sun at the break of day. They could petrify one where they stood with nothing but the slightest of glances. The shade of blue, though still as bright and as endless the sky itself, had somewhat dulled over the years. It grew softer at the edges with age almost as if the sclera was the canvas and the paint of blue was running thin.  
>Many things lay concealed and hidden within the blue, as those orbs had witnessed many things. And it was within the blue that the secrets would remain buried to silently rest until the very conclusion of time itself. They had seen both the good and the bad in the long trek of the journey we all know as life.<p>

Each hour held stories of what they did. Of what they were. Of who they were. And of what and who they were together. As one.  
>They had began as different stories. Of separate tales to be told. Their pages composed of different words to be shared through the ages. But eventually, their stories took a similar turn. Their plot twists became each other. Their words became one. Their stories fused into one leather-bound composition of literature that cannot be easily forgotten.<br>It will sit perched upon the shelves, wedged between other tales on either side. It will be remembered as a legend. And eventually a myth. Even a fairytale. But even when it has been told as nothing but a mere bedtime story to the young souls yet to arrive, it will thrive.

For even simply thinking the words of their story made her think of him.  
>Each word reviving the memory of him, who he was, what he was, and who they were together in not only her mind, but her heart as well. Though brittle and frozen over and locked away in the thickest coat of ice, her heart still beat and pulsed for him even after all these years. For she could never forget.<br>Not the auburn shade of his hair, like the leaves when the rich colors of autumn fade into the creamy-brown as they snap from their twigs on the limbs of trees and tumble to the earth, finding their places in the circle of life.  
>Not the brown of his orbs, burning so bright at the edges that they ignite into an ember flame at the first break of dawn.<br>Not the shade of his skin, radiant and rosy with life it was, with a hint of pink tinting his cheeks.  
>Not the art of his hands, how carefully they cradled and handled all they came to caress. Like everything they ever held was a gift. As if life itself was a gift.<br>Not the bareness of his feet, how he refused to wear the comfort and warmth of footwear. A giggle lept from her lips at this thought as it surfaced the memories of the countless times she had to rub the warmth back into his toes when they disappeared to play and frolic in the snow during the cold winter days they had.  
>She held the memories of him like a secret in her heart. Buried beneath the earth, and submerged under the surface of the water. He lay where no shadow could touch him.<p>

It was under a trillion stars that they danced upon the earth. That they danced a waltz of the young and inexperienced souls they had been. Foolish and restless they once were. With not a care in the world or even the slightest consideration of mind toward the consequences of their actions. Or to the path they would tread into the future of tomorrow. To the life they would lead as the years wore on and people grew older and wiser with years worth of life experience.  
>Yes, they had been nothing short of young and reckless. But they were free.<br>Free to laugh. Free to dance. Free to sing. Free to shout. Free to leap. Free to dash. Free to fly. Free to live.  
>They were young and free.<br>They were awake and alive.

A whistle of wind blew in from a small crack in the pane of the window and washed through the space. And one by one, the lights went down as the ember flame of every candle sitting perched upon a shelf or stoop was blown out and whisked away into the breath of summer. The breeze brought in with it the warmth of the night air. Yet the queen still shivered at the nip, and wrapped herself in a cocoon of her arms, hugging and pinching the warmth once more back into her midsection. But even she knew very well that her efforts were futile. She had not felt warmth for quite some time. She had been frozen in this fortress of ice for far too long.

Her once young soul had aged through the years.  
>The elderly queen of Arendelle now walked through life as nothing more than the mist of a specter. She had become the shell of herself, hollow with emptiness. Dark with the shadows. Cold with the ice. Delirious with the shattered memories she cradled in what remained of her mind. And heavy of a broken heart.<br>She tread upon the earth day by day, allowing life to wash over the shell she was. But no matter how great and mighty the wave, the water never could quite fill the ceaseless pit that had devoured her heart.

In the moment she was lost and found.  
>And in that single moment, she remembered that night. That one fateful night that their paths had interlaced and coiled around one another. It was many, many years ago. When there had been softness of smooth in her young skin and warmth brewing in her heart without a fortress of ice to guard and contain it. And little had they known the turn their lives were about to take.<p>

The blue that streaked her orbs followed the blaze of a star as it shot across the inky dome in the distance. Her frail arms tugged her knees toward her and hugged them into her chest when her eyes fell closed and her pink lips silently whispered the wish her heart truly desired. But it was only if those wings could fly that she could be granted what she had requested. That she would be released from her fortress of ice and cold and be free to soar the winds so long she would never touch down to the earth again. So far she would never reach the end. So high she would never approach the top.  
>But soon. Soon she would have her wish. In time, those wings would fly.<br>In the meantime, Elsa would remember that night.  
>For the rest of her life.<p> 


	2. Chapter 1: Between The Snowflakes

_Arendelle, 1806_

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><p>1<p>

Between The Snowflakes

Between the snowflakes, dusk could be seen descending upon the kingdom of Arendelle.  
>In a wave of radiant white, they cascaded from above in a constant flow just as easily as though they were peppering a delectable dessert layered with sponge-buttery sweetness and frosted with luscious patterns of icing in a sprinkle of powdered sugar. Silent and luminous in the night they were. And, if one thoroughly swept the navy ink that bled into the azure and painted the floor of the distant heavens with their eyes, they would notice that even for only a moment, the flakes would fleck the sky. Suspended there, they would hang with the dazzling twinkle of the stars and become one with the sky before becoming one with the wind. And it was then that they drifted into the breeze sweeping through the land and fluttered to the earth. Each snowflake finding their place upon the soil that is damp with the thick blanket of the country's first snow that young winter.<p>

Deep into the night. When all that stirred in the light of day was thick with silence. Heavy with sleep. And the world was shaded with the darkness as if sketched in narrow lines, sharp corners, and fine details on a single sheet of parchment. Leaving the drawing thin, withered and soft at the edges with age. Her orbs painted of a cerulean blue fluttered open to reveal to the young princess that of the darkened space she sunk in. Slowly, she blinked and rubbed away the sleep that clouded her vision, watching all the smudges of shadows smeared across her eyes focus into the shapes such as her wardrobe standing tall against the lilac that slathered the four walls building the space around her. And her table of vanity with the mirror of glass reflecting the silver beam of the moon that streamed in through the sliver of a crack in the drapes, tucked away in the corner the farthest distance from her canopy bed dressed in a duvet of blue.

Her eyelids flitted as though a butterfly's wings could be found beating in them. And hardly had they opened to their full extent when she noticed the sliver of silver moonlight, like cool white in the darkness, peeking through the drapes, which remained drawn and untouched. It touched a smile into her lips, because this one thin little sliver of light was the silver lining through all the black and grey.

She wriggled out from under the sheets easily enough and shoved them to the end of the bed in a heap with her bare feet and all ten toes. With mastered silence, natural ease, and talented grace, the child of no more than eight years of age slithered off the bed and lowered her weight with a creak and groan or two from the mattress to the floor of cool wood spread out under her feet.  
>Step by step, she silently tiptoed her way across the floor, and navigated her way through the darkness with each of her senses. With her eyes, she saw the edges and corners of the various articles of furniture that decorated her quarters. With her fingers and toes, she felt through the shadows that surrounded her, drowning and plunging her into the pitch blackness that encroached her chambers. And with her ears, she listened for the one sound that could be heard above the creak of the floorboards beneath her weight and this deep into the night; the pure quiet of silence.<p>

She placed the delicate palms of her dainty hands of glass atop the seat of the bench, which could be found sitting at the sill of the window. With little effort, she hauled herself atop the bench, and her knees sank into the plush cushion of velvet when she knelt before the drawn curtains. Slowly and carefully, she pried the drapes open, gathering the fabric into her curled fists one finger at a time. Almost as if she were to do so too rapidly or carelessly, her tiny hands would shatter into the fragments of glass transparent with blue.  
>She drew the drapes apart until she could just peek her two orbs of a clear blue through.<p>

Through the silver lining awaited her the brewing and swirling of a blizzard on the other side of the glass. The pane of glass that now divided her palm pressed against the window from the outside world, which was clouded with the gloom cast upon it by twilight and glittered and gleamed of white from the thick blanket of snow that lay upon the earth while flurry by flurry of snowflakes floated from the heavens above, falling as if they had not a better purpose to fall for in the universe, and caught in the wind as they drifted into their place upon the world.

The princess's young features come to life at the sight. When the wave of joy washed blissfully, not over, but through her every fiber.  
>She felt the grin of her every last tooth take the shape of her lips, and from the edges the expression spread. She felt it in the tips of her toes. Stirring deep in the pit of her stomach. Beating in her heart. Tingling in her bones. Flowing through her veins. Crawling along her skin in a series of shivers. Her entire body grinned with her lips.<p>

It was when the series of waves grew into a hurricane that she could no longer remain where she sat.  
>She scuttled off her perch and dropped to her feet in the darkness. Swift with silence and grace, she swept through the space of her darkened camber like a specter in her nightgown when she flew to her wardrobe and pried open its door with a creak of its hinges. And it was in there that rifled through for and retrieved her cloak of wool and boots black of leather. She slipped her layers on with not a sound in the shadows before squeezing through the door like the little mouse that scurried silently away one little pink paw at a time from its colony in the late hours of dusk, who is too wide-eyed and awake to even sleep with the energy pulsing through its veins and flowing in the cells of its blood. The adrenaline so intense and exhilarating that it became visible within the wearer's eyes.<p>

Hugging closely to the wall, she crept down the corridor on nothing but the tips of her toes. Not once did she dare blink nor even breathe an exhalation of her long held breath. She only slithered along the walls as a ghost floating through the palace. Silent and invisible.  
>Unheard and unseen. Becoming nothing but the mist of a specter skillfully evading the servants who hustled and bustled down the various corridors of the maze of which the palace was composed of. They spoke in hushed voices with whispery tones as they went about preparing for the day of coming duties and chores, which will soon need be completed and accomplished.<p>

The young child soon found herself winding up in the quarters of the kitchen.  
>She folded and tucked herself neatly in the corner, where the shadows pooled under the ember blaze of candlelight that flickered from atop the stove. Unlike the rest of the palace, the kitchen quarters were awake with the hustle and bustle of the finest chefs that could be found in Arendelle. And the clatters and clangs of dishes as they prepared the morning meal for the royal family of four. Each kitchen hand was dressed in a pressed white uniform and trousers plaid of white and black while their heads were topped with the white toque of a cook.<p>

It was from her position in the corner that her nostrils flared, catching a good, thick whiff of the goodies and delicacies that were being weaved together ingredient by precisely measured ingredient before her very eyes. And immediately, little Elsa's attention had been captured. Her eyes fixated. Her mouth growing moist. Her mind itself, enchanted with the magic that is, not only the chef themselves, but even the most common of kitchens. How such varying assortments of food could all be formulated from the same tools and hands would always boggle her mind and never fail to amaze.  
>From the flames crackling in the oven, a fresh tray of a dozen danishes was pulled out, and even from the distance she stood at, her head became light with the intensely delicious and possibly even a little nauseating aroma of the delectable delicacy.<br>Elsa couldn't seem to remain where she stood hidden away in the silhouetted corner when her feet swept her away to where the tray was laid to cool. And when her fingers curled over the lip of the counter, allowing her to catch the slightest of glimpses of the dessert, she felt the gnaw of hunger rumble deep in the pit of her stomach. And only then did she realize just how hungry she was.  
>Sometimes, in fact, quite often, your stomach will be unaware of its desire for food until it can't have any.<p>

"Hungry aren't we Miss Elsa?" A chef by the name of Fernando spoke from behind the little princess when he noticed her trying to make a grab for a single pastry with her dainty little hands.

Her hands immediately retreated to her chest, twisting and fiddling with each other. And she drew away from the counter, feeling the pressure of her teeth dig into her lip. She allowed her eyes of blue to avert to the linoleum flooring at her feet, searching for a possible distraction at her feet. Anything to avoid the gaze of Fernando's dark brown.

He chuckled slightly, before reaching a hand across the counter and taking in his palm a handkerchief and placing upon it a single pastry.  
>"Enjoy your Highness," He told the young princess with a bow of his head.<p>

Elsa's hands gingerly reached out for the dessert, as if they feared that Fernando would snatch the delicacy away any moment. The sweet tart certainly was a sight for sore eyes. The pastry was of a golden color, perfectly shaded with a meringue of lemon filling. It was drawn with icing and powdered with sugar, and oh, how moist the child's lips had become!

"Do not fret Princess, you have my solemn word that I will not speak of this to Gerda." Fernando promised the princess with a most mischievous smile playing in his lips and a raised hand to the air.

Elsa felt the flush of red in her cheeks, only managing a bow of her head upon her neck in the expression of her gratitude. The friendly chef then bid the young princess farewell as she skipped through the back door to the kitchen quarters and out of his field of sight.  
>Once through the door and on the other side of the castle walls, Elsa broke off a bite of her treat and gently placed it on the tip of her tongue. Her tastebuds immediately came to life with extravagant flavor. The warm, buttery flakes of golden melted at the very contact of her tongue, warming her mouth on the inside. The meringue spilled into her mouth when her teeth broke the filling, and it oozed onto her tongue, sending her mouth in bursts of flavor of sweet, tangy lemon. And she needn't had chewed for the delicacy easily trickled down her throat and dropped into her stomach. And even from deep in the pit of her, she felt its warmth. Still fresh and radiating heat from the oven.<p>

She only meant to nibble on the pastry little by little, but it was too good. The flavors too rich and creamy. The heat too warm in her stomach. The delicacy too precious not to be consumed right away while it was still young and fresh.  
>She dabbed gently at her lips with handkerchief of a shade of green, cleaning the corners of her mouth of the remaining crumbs that flecked her lips. She then moved onto her hands, cleaning all ten of her delicate fingers one at a time. After which she tucked the cloth into the sleeve of her nightgown before allowing her feet to sweep her down the trio of cobblestone steps, which are slippery and slick with the layer of frost coating the stone, and away into the blizzard that brewed.<p>

With her silk nightgown of white and crown of platinum-blond locks as white as the sheet of snow lying upon the earth, she floated through the royal gardens like a phantom against the landscape of glistening white. And one by one, she left a trail of prints from the soles of her boots to crunch into the snow with her every step, which were then quickly swept away by the swirling gusts and left only to fade into the glittering blanket of white as the evening breeze gradually began to pick up. Her pale skin dripped with the tears of snowflakes when they melted at the slightest touch, dampening her cheeks into a pink flush of rose. Her entwined braid of silvery-white strands was instantly sprinkled in the white powder that rained down from the distant skies. The falling snowflakes flecked her eyelashes, but she needed not blink them away. And it was as if all she saw through the cerulean blue in her eyes was colored all the more vivid and striking from in between the snowflakes.

In her open palm, a lone snowflake had landed delicately. She cradled it with care and caution, as though she held a piece of glass upon her hand. The flake remained intact against the warmth of her skin, even when she closed her hand around it one finger at a time. She felt the cold it steamed with seep into her skin. The ice so frigid and numbing that it burned through her veins. Yet she only felt a surge of exhilaration wash through her every fiber at the bite of winter.  
>She pressed her lips gently to the pale knuckles of her enclosed fist and held herself there for only a moment before withdrawing her hand and setting the single snowflake free from its shackles. And her eyes never once lost sight of the snowflake when it drifted off with the flurry, falling into the rhythm of winter. It was the smaller speck of the larger blizzard. The very heart of the raging storm.<p>

She strode beneath the cascading flakes of snow through the garden. Her skirts swept the blanket of white spread over the earth like frosting on a cake, when she flitted past the clusters of shrubbery where various types of plants and blossoms withered into the change of the season. They froze with the patterns of frost that snaked and spiraled into the vines and leaves of greenery. They wilted and withered petal by petal as they fluttered little by little to the earth. And what the princess was experiencing witness too was the very circle of life.  
>New life became old. Old life became new.<br>And it wasn't until she stood before the grand bank of a pond that her feet held their stance.

With ease, Elsa knelt into the snow. Sitting in a puddle of her nightgown, she let her hands fall clasped as one into her lap while her eyes swept the vast expanse of the water. Under the glare of the sinking moon, the dark liquid was cast in an illumination of silver, each ripple carrying a splotch of the moon in the fading gloom of twilight.  
>She allowed the silence of the night to wash over and soak her to the bone in whispered wisps of the wind, while she listened to her breaths. Deep and even they became as her lungs slowly drank in the crisp evening air.<br>With only the tip of her fingers, she touched the smooth surface of the moonlit pond. Within a moment, spiraling tendrils of frost and ice were sent crackling and snapping across the water, turning the substance from liquid to solid ice. The shade of the water shifted from a deep navy from the reflection of the azure painted out above to a glossy blue sparkling with the icy surface.  
>The child beamed with her talents, and still blushed a little at the miraculous abilities that she still couldn't even fathom she was capable of.<p>

"How did you manage that?" A voice spoke from between the snowflakes.  
>The tone is hushed into a whisper, so it does not shatter the blissful silence that the world had fallen into so much as create a ripple.<p>

The princess rapidly and cautiously sprang to her feet, stumbling a little on the way up as she back into a nook of the glen. Tucking herself away in the shadows, yet with her radiant skin and braid of hair, she remained the untouched light through all the darkness. So bright she burned that one would needn't squint through the darkness but rather from the blaze of her flame in order to lay eyes on her.

"No need to be alarmed." It spoke gently, softly. Like the undisturbed surface of the water.

"Who are you may I inquire?" The princess asked of it, her voice much more steady and ground than her feet felt where they stood in the damp snow.

"I am a friend to you. Please believe me that there is no reason to be frightened."

"And how exactly do I know that I may trust you?"

"_Because_."

"Because?" She pressed, her tone sharp.  
>Almost like the edge of a blade.<p>

"Because I promise you that you can." The words leak from their lips in a whisper between the snowflakes. Hushed. Gentle. And soft as a lullaby. Yet, it remains untouched by the silence. It does not need to strain to be heard. It is like the cry of a bird, the song of its chirps, and difficult to be missed.

And then she sees him through the blue.  
>He is nowhere one moment and then standing somewhere the next.<br>He materializes between the snowflakes. Before her eyes. Dressed in trousers of brown with a ragged long-sleeved shirt of white and his shoulders draped in the brown of a thin cloak.  
>He was a boy. No older than she.<br>From his head sprouted a crown of hair such a rich shade of brown that she noticed the flames burning at the ends when it caught fire against the colors of dawn that now began to crack open the black staining the distant sky.

"What is your name?" His lips whispered between the snowflakes.  
>His orbs painted of a deep brown caught hers of an endless blue, and young Princess Elsa of Arendelle was unable to tear her gaze away.<br>She was captured. Enchanted with the grasp his eyes held on hers. Rendering her unable to let go.

"Elsa of Arendelle. And what is yours may I ask?"

She could feel the grin approaching even before she saw it quirk a corner of his lips up.  
>"Jack. Jack Overland."<p>

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><p><strong>Thank you for the favorite, follow and to Ashley for the review!:)<br>Hope you enjoyed this chapter, more to come! And please favorite, follow, read, and review in the meantime, it means a lot:)**

**-birdywings**


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